After writing here this morning, I wrote two chapters in less than three hours. There's something to be said for forcing yourself to write the way a marathon runner would force herself to train even if she isn't in the mood.
The second chapter was way the heck better than the first, and I was back in business and happily writing again. I finished just in time to pick up my small person at his small school, have lunch, and rock him to sleep - he was so tired. He was too tired for books and only wanted to hear stories about his older siblings. An hour later, just before I started doing something for me, anything for me - like exercising, napping, or just chilling out with a snack, he screamed, "I pooped!"
Naptime was over. He really needed a three or four hour nap but only got one. The rest of the day was not pretty. He was overtired and so was I. I didn't get a chance to decompress from the extreme effort it took to put him to bed the first time. I have no idea what I did with the hour I wasted before he needed a diaper change. Not a clue. It evaporated - I never saw it, not a minute of it.
As if time were fast-forwarded, big kids started coming home from school. I was going to make soup for dinner but hadn't started it yet. I quickly threw the chicken in the over to bake and put the vegetables and broth in the crock pot to expedite things. By the time it should have been ready to serve and, honestly, needed to be served since it was almost time for one child's soccer practice, it was not done at all.
No rushing the soup.
So we had really bad lunch meat sandwiches and almost-expired Sun Chips. Before you start thinking I am a super bad mom, we also had enriched juice that is supposed to double as a fruit and a vegetable serving or two.
Just as I herded the boys (dad, baby, and soccer kid) out the door to soccer, we heard the thunder. Eerie bad evil thunder. Soccer usually waits thirty minutes after the last thunder clap or lightning sighting I thought. I spent a lot of time looking it up on the internet without any luck. So my son and I sat on our covered porch reading and listening for thunder, checking the time, and waiting some more. We debated more than once whether to keep waiting or give it up. Eventually the skies cleared, and soccer practice was a go. I drove him there and sat in the car, half watching him practice and half reading William Faulkner.
I'm betting I was the only mommy in the parking lot enjoying Faulkner. I love him. I want to write like him - I love the way he uses point of view and captures the characters in a community in a socio-political statement sort of way, layers generations of characters, and exposes the effect of one generation on the next, but mostly the way he makes the characters and places seem so real. I think he tells a good story. My husband hates Faulkner. I think he's wrong.
That said, I was definitely wrong to eat the lunch meat, sun chips, and juice combo. I feel horrible, like I gained five pounds since dinner. Back to veggies tomorrow. Several hours later, the soup smells delicious. At least tomorrow's dinner is ready. And I'm excited to have three more hours to write tomorrow.